Finding Freedom
by ohvausealex
Summary: Alex may be far from prison, but she's never far from the forefront of Piper's mind. Oneshot following Piper as she reminisces over some of her time in prison, mainly post 2x01 in Chicago. Vauseman. T for language.


**A/N:****This is my first fic. I tried my best and wrote it at 2am...probably not the best plan. But I hope you enjoy it all the same, Vauseman shippers.**

**Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing here!**

* * *

Fifteen months it had been. Fifteen fucking months. And now, as Piper cast her mind back to the beginning of her sentence, she wanted to snigger incredulously at her own naïvety. She had originally spent every depressingly lonely night in her depressingly lonely (and mildly itchy) prison bed wishing the time away as quickly as possible. She wished to be back home; back home where Larry was. But alas, as the weeks began to pass, that steady image of Larry that had been seemingly strongly emblazoned in her brain began to fade, and a new, more familiar ideal confidently strode into the forefront of her mind before settling there and, with a smug smile and the raising of one perfectly formed eyebrow, proceeded to consume Piper's every thought.

And so, once again, Alex Vause had managed to effortlessly worm her way back into Piper's heart.

* * *

The time that followed had been a whirlwind of every conceivable emotion for Piper; her head was a flurry of anger and pain yet it was simultaneously blinded by a wild yearning for Alex, because she loved Alex. She would always love Alex.

And even now, Piper still managed to see the irony in that very statement. Her love for Alex had landed her in prison, lost Piper her fiancé, and, worst of all: her love for Alex had driven her to lie in court, allowing the raven-haired beauty to walk free whilst guaranteeing herself a spot on the next plane back to the Litch. That was the first time in Piper's life that she managed to eventually convince herself that she genuinely did hate Alex Vause, but upon arrival back at Litchfield, the blonde soon realised that nothing was the same without her counterpart. Piper became a shadow of her former self; she withdrew. The reality of her new-found lone wolf status hit Piper like a ton of bricks and as she crumbled under the weight, prison manifested itself into what it was supposed to be: dark, lonely and isolating. But then, every night as Piper curled up on her concrete-like prison bed once again, she began to comprehend that the grubby walls of Litchfield were simply a tame punishment compared to the real one: being kept away from Alex.

Piper always remembered a particularly nasty stint she had endured in the SHU after the whole Chicago 'lying in court' incident. She painfully remembered all the anger that had bubbled up inside her, to the point where, blood boiling, she had violently exploded like a raging volcano, and the rest of it was a blur.

'You threw a load of shit around, Chapman.' Nicky had casually told Piper after her return from the SHU, with a hint of amusement in her eyes, 'basically, you fucked over a ton of chairs and other furniture an' shit because Vause fucked YOU over bad.' Nicky playfully elbowed Piper gently in the ribs, but the blonde didn't have the energy to respond. That period in the SHU had been the worst experience of her prison life thus far. Never had Piper had so much time to think so long and hard about anything, but now, with nothing but the end of her apparently never-ending sentence usurping all of her waning brain power, Piper willed herself to bide her time in the hope that it would practically waste away before her very eyes.

* * *

So, that had been prison.

'Be good, Chapman.' A pat on the back and the door slammed shut behind her.

Prison was history now. Suddenly, Piper Chapman was a free woman.

Two days later Piper Chapman was still free, but she was also mind-numbingly bored and being eaten away by her incessant inner ramblings. Her mind refused to slow down and it felt like a car speeding round a racetrack constantly, constantly, constantly, or a radio with no off button, it was the equivalent of white noise flying round her poor, overworked brain. And that is why, that night, Piper ended up pathetically slumped over the sticky counter of a small downtown bar, surrounded by her own collection of empty glasses from that evening, and attracting some concerned, (and occasionally disgusted), looks from other bar-goers. Eventually though, the early hours of the morning were drawing nearer and Piper's eyes were becoming blearier, and after a significant amount of batting of her eyelashes, Piper managed to eventually convince the eye-rolling bartender to begrudgingly call her a taxi, which she drunkenly stumbled into.

As the driver asked her where she was going, Piper's grip around the ripped piece of paper in her hand tightened before she slowly handed it over. As the driver pushed the accelerator, Piper sighed and let her head fall lightly against the headrest, closing her eyes and exhaling gently. She wasn't sure if she was feeling sick from the alcohol, or if she was nervous or even just tired, but it was too late to turn back now.

'Shit.' She slurred to herself and rested her hands atop of her head in frustration and anxiousness. 'I love you but I _fucking_ hate you.' she mouthed towards the heavens as her eyelids fluttered shut in anguish.

* * *

This had been a long time coming now, too long. She had done her time, re-evaluated her life and to top it all off, Piper was now very drunk and thus her entire demeanour was wonderfully laced with a false sense of confidence.

She knocked on the door three times.

Immediately, Piper began to madly reminisce. Memories of things said and done flashed before her eyes, years worth of colours and sounds merged into an inconceivable turmoil; a fray. Was this a good idea? Should she just go home? Hell, she didn't even know how to get home now, it was approaching 3am and she was too drunk to remember her own address. Not to mention she was out of money.

No, I need to do this, she thought. Even if it was three in the morning and she was ridiculously drunk, she had to do this, she decided. If she didn't clear things up now, then she would never be able to move on and forget.

But then the door opened. Instantly, her inner commentary stopped, the months worth of anger ceased to exist, and Piper knew that she would never be able to move on and forget. She didn't want to move on and forget.

No words were exchanged as Piper collapsed into the arms of Alex Vause, but as Piper felt a feather-like kiss on her neck intermingled with tiny warm teardrops, she knew that there was nothing that needed to be said. It was rare for Alex to cry.

'Thank _fuck_...' Alex finally breathed, pushing her trademark black-rimmed glasses back onto her head and wiping her eyes, 'I didn't know if I'd ever see you again, I didn't know if you'd be able to find me, or, fuck, if you'd even want to find me after Chicago...', she whispered as she pulled back from the prolonged embrace, arms still draped around Piper.

Piper sniffed, wiping her own tears away and staring at Alex from under drunk, hooded eyelids. 'When you have a connection with someone, it never really goes away, right?'

It was when the corner of Alex's lip quirked upwards at her words and two sleepy pairs of watery eyes met, that Piper realised that stepping out of the gates of Litchfield Correctional Facility had not deemed her free. It was, instead, this moment that constituted her freedom. To Piper Chapman, Alex Vause was freedom.


End file.
